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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243192">Check Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElianB/pseuds/ElianB'>ElianB</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Elian's star trek fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Comfort being used loosely, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Cannot Stress Enough that the rating is NOT for sexual content, I believe I started writing this while I was in the middle of season 2, M rating is for heavy themes rather than sexual content, Please don't interpret anything happening here as kinky, Trauma, Victim Blaming, in that the victim is blaming himself, it lays out the situation that's picking up in media res in more detail tho, the non-con is in reference to acts that happen to Kirk in canon, you don't have to read the first fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:27:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElianB/pseuds/ElianB</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim wouldn't say he's in the habit of avoiding check-ups, but this one... this one is an exception.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk &amp; Leonard "Bones" McCoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Elian's star trek fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Check Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Like I mentioned in the tags you don't have to read the previous fic to follow this one. It would further elucidate the mental illness/trama situation Kirk is dealing with in this fic, but I think I touch on it enough that you'll understand what's happening. This fic isn't intended to actually fit into the timeline of the previous one even though it stems from the same situation/plot. It's just a scene I wanted to write for personal reasons, but it's distressing enough that I didn't want to make people read it if it's something they'd rather avoid. So. It takes place outside the canon. (Side note: if you read the previous fic and are waiting for an update I have no idea when I'll get one up. A few months ago I accidentally deleted a whole entire scene and I've been uninspired ever since, though I have been writing and do really want to finish it.)</p><p>Additional information and warnings: My Jim is trans. In this fic he's scheduled for a pap smear. It's not a procedure I imagine him typically having problems with, but the non-consensual situations he's been placed in up to this point have finally built up to a tipping point, resulting in him developing a case of off and on touch aversion and a growing sense of not having autonomy over his own body. So, heavy stuff explored in what's going to be a triggering situation for Kirk (see end notes for extra information on this scene if you're concerned). I also want to reiterate that in this fic Kirk blames himself for his trauma, specifically in regard to the instances in canon where he uses his body to resolve situations. For him, that mentality is largely a desperate bid for a sense of control, but it's prominent in the first half of this fic so please take care in reading. Also, the ending leans into implying Jim pursuing means of achieving emotional/mental well-being in the future, but as of the end of this fic he's still in a rough place so if you're looking for a traditional happy ending that's not what this has.</p><p>And as a final couple notes before diving into this I do want to state that I'm not a trans man but I am transmasculine and I also have problems with touch aversion and a very complicated relationship with feeling that I have autonomy over my body, but not quite because the same sort of non-consensual situations Kirk has been through (I will not be elaborating further). This is born out of both an exploration of trauma that I believe it's reasonable to assume Kirk may have developed and a vent fic for myself. I'm hoping that I've managed to explore the specifics of the situation I'm presenting with enough sensitivity, but if any part of it seems disrespectful please let me know.</p><p>Ultimately this fic is intended to be a way of regaining a sense of control. If you're reading and dealing with the same sort of issues, I hope it helps.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Now, despite what Bones’s ranting would lead anyone to believe, Jim wouldn’t actually say he was in the habit of avoiding his check-ups like the plague.</p><p> </p><p>Would he engage in a bit of complaining before, during, and after? Yes.</p><p> </p><p>A bit of procrastination leading up to his appointments? Sure.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps even a bit of ducking out early? Well, <em>obviously</em>, if the situation demanded it.</p><p> </p><p>But all of that was technically in the name of being <em>busy</em> and <em>not</em> because Jim had it in mind to go out of his way to make Bones’s life harder.</p><p> </p><p>To be completely frank, his biannual check-ups just didn’t really rank that high up in his list of priorities, especially when, as far as he was concerned, he hadn’t developed any pressing medical concerns between an upcoming check-up and his last impromptu trip to the sickbay.</p><p> </p><p>It simply wasn't that important.</p><p> </p><p>That being said, Jim <em>had</em> actually found himself avoiding <em>this</em> specific check-up, watching its steady approach on his calendar with dread and, after its arrival, somehow finding himself three days into dodging Bones in the halls and making convenient excuses to busy himself elsewhere on the ship when that failed.</p><p> </p><p>His avoidance stemmed from the fact that he’d been having… episodes lately. Bouts of sleep crying, an itching under his skin, anxiety and distress at being touched… Just the absolute <em>strangest</em> episodes that he… that he wasn’t sure how to explain.</p><p> </p><p>And in light of them, the very thought of submitting to his yearly pap smear just… Well. It just didn’t seem like the best idea. The very thought made his anxiety spike and left him with a queasy stomach.</p><p> </p><p>That was how Jim found himself, a cold sweat building on his lower back, ducking through the <em>Enterprise's</em> halls following Bones’s fourth – and threat laden – request of the hour for his presence in the sickbay.</p><p> </p><p>As he walked, he debated with himself, again, the pros and cons of just telling Bones about the new… <em>problem…</em> he’d developed. It’d make things easier, he couldn’t deny that. But – and here he started up his terrible habit of biting on his index finger, sinking his teeth into the knuckle, digging and grinding them into the bone – but… he couldn’t shake the thought that he was being ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>He’d go, making a fuss over nothing, nothing that wouldn’t resolve itself, and <em>soon</em>, probably. Never <em>mind</em> that in actuality it’d been weeks already and his sleep was still being disrupted and some days he couldn’t stand the thought of touch so much that once he’d actually excused himself to head to the bathroom on the off-chance he really ended up throwing up.</p><p> </p><p>He could imagine it so clearly, he’d make a fuss and within a few days he’d be good as new and any stress he would have forced onto Bones would have been for <em>nothing</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, it wasn’t like he’d been…</p><p> </p><p>Like he was suffering from…</p><p> </p><p>Well.</p><p> </p><p>It just wasn’t sexual assault, he knew that much. Couldn’t be if he’d willingly offered himself up on a silver platter, exchanging his charm and his body for the opportunity to keep his people safe.</p><p> </p><p>It was <em>strategic</em>.</p><p> </p><p>There was a <em>difference</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Because if it was strategic then that meant he'd been <em>in control</em>. He’d always… always…</p><p> </p><p>Jim whipped around a corner, barely conscious of the crewpeople around him – idling or going about their business – and paused for the briefest of moments, digging his teeth even further into his knuckle, a sharp, stinging pain.</p><p> </p><p>It was as if he was being taunted as he suddenly recalled the blatantly non-consensual violations of his person that had taken place during that mess with Dr. Noel and Dr. Adams on the Tantalus Colony, it having left his mind muddled for days with false memories of fucking Dr. Noel and loving her desperately – memories that had never quite disappeared, really, so much as faded to the point of being almost (but only <em>almost</em>) inconsequential after frequent reminders to himself that they were things that had never actually happened at all – and again on Neural with Nona and her drug that had driven him desperate with love and lust and made him kiss her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.</p><p> </p><p>Jim shook his head, sharply, dismissing the memories and firmly reminding himself that they were outliers in his own trend of giving himself away and if he was going to be doing it then by <em>god</em> he shouldn’t be having a <em>problem</em> with it <em>now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He yanked his hand from his mouth, the skin around his abused knuckle embedded with teeth marks and likely to bruise.</p><p> </p><p>This was ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>The whole entire <em>situation</em> was ridiculous, and him even more so for allowing it to affect him this much. Allowing it to send him hiding away in the corridors, cowering from a procedure he'd been getting done every year, no problem, for over the past decade of his life.</p><p> </p><p>And he- well, he just wasn't going to allow it to continue anymore. That was it. He'd decided; he was <em>putting his foot down</em>. He would march himself straight to the sickbay and prove to himself that he was fine. That he was <em>better</em> than this. That he...</p><p> </p><p>That he wasn't going to fall apart over one god damn medical procedure because of actions <em>he'd</em> taken and events that- that he <em>knew</em> he was strong enough to not be affected by. That he <em>hadn't</em> been, or had hardly been, affected by when they'd happened and that had no business affecting him so strongly now.</p><p> </p><p>Jim took a deep, steadying breath and straightened his spine, his resolve set.</p><p> </p><p>A brief glance about him revealed that his behavior had attracted the attention of quite a few people, each of them eyeing him with varying arrays of wariness and concern. He stared back at them for a moment, thoughts racing, before deciding that any attempt at an excuse would be flimsy, at best, and liable to fan the flames of gossip. Instead he offered nothing more than a passing wave and a pleasant smile as he pressed on down the hallway, rubbing at the knuckle of his index finger to sooth away the marks he'd bitten into his skin.</p><p> </p><p>By the time Jim got to the sickbay it was clear the Bones was bordering on irate, greeting him with an, “About damn time!” before grabbing him by the arm and manhandling him onto a medical cot.</p><p> </p><p>Jim laughed sheepishly and rattled off some excuse or other as he got himself comfortable on the cot, even as his arm tingled unpleasantly where Bones had touched him and he suppressed the urge to scratch at it.</p><p> </p><p>Bones rolled his eyes and set to gathering the things he needed, grumbled to himself while he moved about Jim, grabbing them and setting them down on the tray near Jim's cot with a bit more force than necessary. Jim simply sat, watching him, drumming his fingers on the cot, doing his best to keep his breathing even as his heart rate ticked up and up and up, actually stuttering to a stop momentarily when he heard the snap of Bones pulling on gloves.</p><p> </p><p>At that, he couldn't help but flinch.</p><p> </p><p>Bones paused, hands still raised, only one glove on.</p><p> </p><p>The two of them stared at each other for a tense moment, Jim's body stiff and Bones's eyes narrowed. It was Bones who broke eye-contact first, though, giving a short hum and tugging on his second glove.</p><p> </p><p>As he stretched out his fingers, he asked, casually, much <em>too</em> casually, "Any particular reason it's been so hard to get you in here?"</p><p> </p><p>Jim shrugged, affecting a calm nonchalance and forcing himself to relax, the drumming of his fingers on the cot, which had stopped when he'd flinched, starting up again. "Busy," he said. "Just busy. Same as always."</p><p> </p><p>Bones hummed again, dragging it out longer this time as he approached Jim, grabbing a small flashlight from the tray he'd deposited it on. He murmured a soft, "Look straight ahead for me," and clicked it on, barely waiting a moment before shining it into Jim's eyes. "Any concerns you aren't telling me about?" he asked, his voice having taken on a detached, professional quality that strangely both soothed Jim's nerves – allowing him to more easily slip into the routine of doctor and patient – and sent his anxiety spiking because Bones clearly wasn't letting his little flinch there go.</p><p> </p><p>"No," Jim replied, blinking spots out of his eyes when the flashlight clicked off, his tone blasé, drawing up an implied, faux-innocent, 'Why ever would you ask?'</p><p> </p><p>Bones set the flashlight aside with a light clatter and eyed Jim for a few seconds before sighing and turning to pick up a tongue depressor. "All right, Jim. If anything <em>is</em> wrong, though, I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me know. You can speak up at any point, even if it's just to tell me to stop." He looked Jim directly in the eyes, face deadly serious. "You hear me?"</p><p> </p><p>Jim nodded, shifting a bit, the weight of Bones's gaze making him feel flushed with discomfort and something approaching embarrassment. "Yes,  I got it," he muttered, thankful when that seemed to do the trick, breaking the moment and spurring Bones back into motion.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the check up proceeded in much the same uncomfortably tense and strangely professional way, all the way up until Bones pulled out his stethoscope.</p><p> </p><p>Throughout the process of the check-up, Jim hadn't quite been able to calm his thundering pulse. It would fall into nice, sedate lulls during some moments, but, more often than not, with Bones in his space and touching him, his heart was beating rather rapidly. Unfortunately, it was not during one of those lulls when Bones brought his stethoscope to Jim's chest.</p><p> </p><p>Jim pressed his lips together, bracing himself.</p><p> </p><p>Though he was staring resolutely past Bones's shoulder he was still able to see, out of the corner of his eyes, when Bones's eyebrows furrowed.</p><p> </p><p>From there, it was a predictably brief countdown to the moment Bones huffed out an exasperated breath, dropped the stethoscope, and took a step back, out of Jim's space, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p> </p><p>"Jim," Bones said shortly, Jim's name practically a reprimand all on its own as it fell from his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Jim stubbornly kept his gaze on the far wall, releasing an exasperated breath of his own. "Yes, Bones?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, come off it!" Bones exclaimed emphatically, his arms flying out at his sides. "I've <em>tried</em> to be delicate, but we both know that <em>I</em> know that something's wrong here! We can't keep dancing around it, Jim. I <em>need</em> you to tell me what's got you so stressed."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Nothing</em>, Bones." Jim forced a smile. Then, aiming for coy, but probably not managing much better than weary, he added, "It’s just the stress."</p><p> </p><p>Bones was decidedly unamused, meeting Jim with little more than a deadpan stare. "Jim, I could quite literally <em>hear</em> your heart trying to jump its way out of your chest. <em>What's wrong</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Jim groaned, rolled his head back, and groaned some more. "Nothing. <em>Nothing</em>. There's <em>nothing</em> wrong, goddamn it!" He dropped his head back down, meeting Bones with a rather irritated look. "Now, can we please just get this appointment over with so I can get back to where I'm needed?"</p><p> </p><p>"Where you're <em>needed</em> for the next half hour or so is <em>right here</em> in the sickbay," Bones replied, his own irritation clashing with Jim's. "Now are you going to tell me what's wrong or am I going to have to wring it out of you?"</p><p> </p><p>The two of them glared at each other until Jim, startled by the realization that he was actually, <em>genuinely</em> angry, broke off, staring down at his lap in a tangled mess of confusion, exhaustion, and discontentment.</p><p> </p><p>He'd come to the sickbay to prove to himself that he was fine, not to fight with Bones and certainly not to wind up more angry with the man than he could recall being in <em>years</em>. And over something as silly as Bones- what? Sussing out for himself that Jim was uncomfortable and not wanting to overstep Jim's boundaries?</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, Jim thought to himself, he should be taking this opportunity to tell Bones something – <em>anything</em>  – about what was going on with him lately. He opened his mouth...</p><p> </p><p>But all that came out was a sigh. He shook his head, hands loosely linked in front of him, thumbs tapping together.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not something I want to talk about right now," Jim said, softly. "I'd really rather just finish up the appointment, if that's all right with you?"</p><p> </p><p>He glanced up. Bones was staring at him with a rather pinched expression, but Jim could tell the moment he relented, the tension dropping from his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>"Right, right, <em>fine</em>," Bones muttered. Then, louder, "Just remember: we can stop at any point."</p><p> </p><p>Jim nodded, smiling faintly. "Understood."</p><p> </p><p>Bones nodded back, seeming relatively satisfied, and stated that he was going to go grab the pants he'd need Jim to change into, pulling the curtain closed around Jim's cot for privacy as he stepped away.</p><p> </p><p>At the very mention of those pants, Jim blanched, but he kept his breathing calm and steady, firmly reminding himself that he was <em>fine</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Bones's hand popped back through the curtain with the aforementioned clothes, and Jim grabbed them, changing quickly and laying back on the cot before letting Bones know that he was ready.</p><p> </p><p>The tension just seemed to build in Jim, his heart pounding, as he heard the rustle of the curtain and Bones's approach. It skyrocketed as Bones, while stating what he was doing in what was probably the most gentle tone Jim had ever heard the man use, set Jim's feet up in the stirrups at the end of the cot.</p><p> </p><p>In moments, Jim could feel the slightest pressure of Bones's hands on his thighs. His eyes were squeezed shut, his stomach plummeting.</p><p> </p><p>"Jim?" Bones asked, his voice prodding, but still so terribly gentle. "I need you to tell me if you're giving me your consent to continue."</p><p> </p><p>"I- yes. <em>Yes</em>." The words fell from Jim's lips, sounding surprisingly steady, but leaving him dizzy. He felt reality shift briefly, a tumultuous, capsizing sensation, and opened his eyes, hoping to reorient himself.</p><p> </p><p>"All right." And again, as if Jim really needed a <em>third</em> reminder. "Remember: you can tell me to stop at any point."</p><p> </p><p>Bones's voice drifted to him, words that slipped away from his frazzled mind like sand slipping through his fingers, as he started up at the harsh light embedded in the ceiling above him.</p><p> </p><p>The light was bright, blinding.</p><p> </p><p>It made his eyes water, but it was easy to just lay there and stare at it, to think of nothing, to be nothing, to <em>feel</em> nothing but the air filling and then leaving his lungs as he breathed. It was just soothing enough that he felt himself settle some, the dizziness dispelling and leaving lethargy in its wake.</p><p> </p><p>Jim's eyes slipped closed again. He felt calm through the sound of velcro opening, through the faint clink of metal that must have been Bones grabbing the speculum, through the click of a cap opening.</p><p> </p><p>He felt calm.</p><p> </p><p>He was fine.</p><p> </p><p>He was <em>fine</em>.</p><p> </p><p>All the way up until he felt gloved fingers touching him and all of a sudden he was calling out, "Stop! Stop, stop, stop!" before he could even process that he <em>needed</em> Bones to stop.</p><p> </p><p>Bones's hands were off him in an instant.</p><p> </p><p>Jim's body, however, was still catching up to his fear, his heart racing and limbs beginning to tremble. He pressed a hand over his mouth, feeling sick, and pulled his feet from the stirrups, closing his legs and slowly rising to sit up.</p><p> </p><p>"Jim?" Bones was staring at him, hands in the air, gloves discarded and speculum nowhere in sight.</p><p> </p><p>Jim raised a finger, silently asking for a moment to compose himself. He then shuddered violently instead, curling forward and trying to focus on just <em>breathing</em> with his head between his knees.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn't sure how long he sat there, periodically shuddering, but eventually, hoping Bones was even still there to hear him, he muttered, "Ah, I, uh... I haven't been feeling well lately, to be honest with you, Bones."</p><p> </p><p>Bones had the decency to not comment on what an understatement that was, though Jim himself couldn't help but laugh a bit, instead asking, "Did you want to talk about it?"</p><p> </p><p>Jim stared blankly at the ground, considering – or perhaps just <em>processing</em> – but ultimately shook his head. "No, no I still don't want to talk about it."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay. I... I have to be honest, Jim, this looks to me like something you're going to <em>have</em> to talk about at some point. It doesn't have to be right now and it doesn't even have to be to me, but..."</p><p> </p><p>Jim nodded, slowly straightening up and shooting Bones a weak smile. "Yeah, I uh..." He pressed his lips together, clasping his hands tightly together in his lap. "I agree with you."</p><p> </p><p>Silence hung between them with that admission, until Jim, feeling slightly better, slightly more in control – the trembling having subsided and his heart rate no longer beating as fast as a rabbit's – cleared his throat and rolled back his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you think you could..." He gestured towards the curtain.</p><p> </p><p>Bones turned to look at it, confused.</p><p> </p><p>Jim smiled again, a bit more genuinely this time. "It's just, I'd like to change..."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh! Right, yeah, of course." Bones shot Jim another glance and nodded to himself, seeming to relax a bit – a good sign for how he was looking, Jim supposed. "You can come right on out when you're done. We'll talk a little bit about, uh, next steps and then you can head on your way."</p><p> </p><p>"Sounds good," Jim said and Bones nodded again, slipping past the curtain and closing it rather firmly behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Alone, Jim took a deep breath, releasing it in a gust, and dropped his gaze back to his lap. The crotch of the pants were still open, though nothing important was visible with his legs closed and his hands in the way.</p><p> </p><p>He stared and stared and stared, eyebrows furrowing, then parted his legs, slightly, unclasping his hands and slipping them over where Bones's had been resting on his thighs. He pressed into his skin, squeezing then releasing, letting his hands just... rest there – in the quiet of the sickbay while he just <em>stared</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Stared at <em>his</em> hands on <em>his</em> thighs.</p><p> </p><p><em>His</em> body.</p><p> </p><p>He traced the skin with his fingers, touch featherlight.</p><p> </p><p>It was... nice – that Bones had stopped.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Brief description of the scene where Kirk is going to be receiving his pap smear: this scene includes Jim's fear and dread as he forces himself to give consent to the procedure as well as depictions of dissociation. Jim tells Bones to stop before it can really progress and proceeds to have a bit of an... episode, for lack of a better term.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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